A Letter to My Grandson

10 Dec 2001

Hi David,

I was rummaging through the basement and found this picture. Because of all the bombing in Afghanistan I have been thinking a lot about my time flying the B-52. The picture also takes me back to those times, especially since I flew this time of year on Linebacker II missions. The photo was taken of my crew on 27 December 1972 after we landed from a sortie over North Vietnam.

We were flying bombing missions every other day to targets in North and South Vietnam, and occasionally Laos and Cambodia. They were not particularly dangerous, but quite a contrast from the forward air controller missions I had been flying in the south less than a year earlier in an O-2. I went from one of the smallest airplanes in the inventory to the biggest. We flew from Guam in three-ship cells on a flight that normally lasted about 12 hours with one refuelling. Ironically all B-52's flying into Vietnam came inbound to a common point located over the province where I had flown for a year as a FAC. From 41,000 feet I could put my thumb on the windscreen and cover the place I knew like the back of my hand.

In December the Paris peace process stalled and someone decided we should quit piddling around hitting targets of no consequence and bomb the North Vietnamese to the conference table. The result was Operation Linebacker II, which started on the 18th. We started bombing Hanoi and Haiphong in earnest. Our crew flew on the 19th, and the campaign was going very well. However, the mission planners weren't changing the flight plans. As the bombers came in on the same headings at the same times losses started to mount. We had nineteen crews from Blytheville, and lost three in the first few days. It got so bad that the last few sorties were recalled on the way to their targets.

We had a stand down for Christmas. Late that day we received a message to report early the next day for a high protein breakfast. Of course, we knew that meant we were flying. Sure enough we got to our mission briefing on the 26th to find that we were bombing Haiphong. First we got general absolution from the Catholic chaplain, so if we died we'd go straight to heaven. That'll get your attention!

This time things would be different. We were flying with 80 other B-52's from Guam. But instead of flying in formations of three, all 81 airplanes would be in one formation. Not only that, but there were five other waves of B-52's from other bases, and all waves would be bombing at the same time. No longer would we be marching over the targets in single file like a row of sitting ducks. After the briefing the three-star general in charge read us a good-luck message. He was shaking so hard he could hardly read it, and he wasn't even going! Not very inspiring. We were probably too nervous to hear it anyway.

I was a copilot with a senior aircraft commander, so we were the wave lead for all 81 aircraft. We did all the navigating and communications for the entire formation. The B-52's took off one minute apart from Guam, flew over the Philippines, refuelled, then went on to Laos, where for two hours we flew around a big "compression box" so all the aircraft could join up in a tight formation. Then it was up through Laos, across North Vietnam, then south along the coast to Haiphong, our target.

As we approached the target we could see the opposite wave of B-52's on radar coming the other way. The SAM's started coming up, but most of them were shot at the airplanes behind us, as the ground crews would sight in on the lead aircraft and shoot at those following. I counted about 60 SAM's coming up before we dropped our bombs and turned out to sea. Most of the SA-2's would pass through our altitude and arc over as their motors burned out, then explode in a big orange doughnut. It would be a pretty sight if they weren't so deadly. The number three aircraft, two behind us, was turning off target when a SAM went off under him, The pilot had to continue his roll all the way around until the airplane was upright again. I think he was the only pilot to ever roll a B-52.

I don't remember how many B-52's we lost that night, but the wave formations and simultaneous target times worked so well that a few days later the North Vietnamese called a cease fire, and soon after that the war was over. For most of us the primary motivation for flying these missions was to get our prisoners of war back. It worked, but in the process some of our guys became POW's. Strangely, out of the three crews and nineteen crewmembers shot down from Blytheville AFB, we got one guy back from each crew. They all saw fellow crewmates alive on the ground, who were never accounted for.

The missions were scary, in part because they were dangerous, but mostly because you had eight hours on the way to the target to think about dying. Because I had already had a tour in-country, I wasn't as nervous as the rest of my crew who had only been in B-52's. One thing though, there is nothing like facing death to make you feel alive. It was a nice ride home, watching the meteors, then the sun come up, then landing on a South Pacific island and knowing you can spend a couple of days on the beach.

We were the first airplane to land, with the shortest flying time, 14 hrs 10 min after takeoff, and had this picture taken. I did a lot of exciting things in my Air Force career, but this was probably the most intense.

Cheers,

Your Grandfather,

{signed}